Ripping yarn.
I like writing that, but it's even more fun to say. Space opera with the emphasis on the operatic, with prose so purpled that I occasionally reached to twirl my non-existent moustache, settings so divergently and baroquely imagined as to suggest a good thirty or forty novels, and an archetypal plot (a found alien object, and a series of searchers, con artists, pirates, hero types, larcenous corporations, would-be tyrants, rebel leaders) that mashes up any number of ye olde pulp delights. After Flynn's last thoughtful meander through medieval first-contact [book:Eifelheim], this was a surprising shift--but carried off with enormous wit.